


Burnt and Worn Out

by loverboy (quartet_fragment)



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Catharsis, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Past Kray Foresight/Galo Thymos, Past Sexual Abuse, Pre-Slash, Soft Ending, it's left vague but its clear enough, they're obviously in love they just have issues to work through first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartet_fragment/pseuds/loverboy
Summary: Still caught up in the things that happened to me in the past, now all I have are terrible feelings, so fuck this, goddamn this sucks.Galo hasn't been sleeping well, Lio notices.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	Burnt and Worn Out

**Author's Note:**

> promare good (my writing, not so much)

“You look tired,” tired wasn’t even the right word. Exhausted was probably a better fit, what with the dark rings that hung heavy beneath Galo’s eyes.

“Gee thanks, Lio,” he huffs, pulling a chair over to sit by the shorter man. The rest of the burning rescue had gone out for lunch today. Galo knew Lio wasn’t the most fond of their group outings and had spoken up on the latter’s behalf, volunteering to stay behind as well without a second thought. He was considerate like that, and everytime he made the effort to accommodate the other an unfamiliar flutter was brought about in Lio’s stomach. He sighs, leaning back in the chair, “do I really look that bad?”

“I never said you looked bad,” it comes out a bit too quickly for his liking. He clicks his tongue, looking over at his companion, “just tired, Galo, that’s all.”

The two fall into a silence, following that, one that could be described as all but comfortable. It felt to Lio like he’d encroached on something but he hasn’t the slightest clue what that ‘something’ is. Maybe if Aina or Ignis or any of the others had been there, they’d have warned him not to point it out, but they weren’t, and the uncharacteristic tenseness radiating from Galo was enough to have him thrown for a loop.

After a few, excruciatingly long moments, Lio dares to speak up, wishing for anything but the suffocating silence currently enveloping the burning rescue HQ, “Have you been sleeping okay, Galo?”

Galo doesn’t respond, and Lio feels near instant guilt for continuing to press on the matter. Part of him also feels bad that he even has to ask in the first place, they live in the same goddamn apartment, Lio  _ should  _ be able to tell if something was going on with him at night, but he isn’t. That fact bothers him more than it probably should. Galo’s strong, really strong, and he sure as hell doesn’t need Lio’s help but despite that he can’t  _ not  _ feel bad for being unable to help.

“I’ve been sleeping fine, Lio, no need to worry about little ol’ me,” He shoots Lio a lopsided grin, one that would have seemed completely normal to most, but the forced nature behind it didn’t go unnoticed by the other man.

“Okay, I just —you seem less… high energy, I guess,” Lio responds, apprehensively.

“I’m fine, more than fine, really—just a little tired today.”

_ Galo Thymos is not fine. _

Lio learned this later that same week. It was a few days after his confrontation, if you could really even call it that, far into that night. 

It was much later than Lio would usually be up; he was a very much a morning person in every sense of the word, often getting up at what Galo would lovingly refer to as ‘the ass-crack of dawn’. He was normally asleep before eleven, but the clock on his laptop now clearly read 2:31 am. He had been hunched over the thing for the past three hours, trying desperately to sort through all of the paperwork and forms and records he had to for the Burnish rehabilitation and reintegration project. Lio yawns, closing the laptop and setting it aside. He feels like he might go insane if he doesn’t take a break, walk around or just do something to distract himself from the immense amount of work that’s still to come; so he does just that, pulling himself from the bed and exiting the room quietly. As Lio steps out something catches his eye.

_ Light? _

At the end of the hallway, light spills from beneath a door. It’s their bathroom, and logically, it wouldn’t be too far fetched for one of them to have forgotten to turn the light off earlier or for Galo to have gotten up at some point during the night and gone in there. Still, even with that line of thought running through his head, something still felt strange. He makes his way down the hallway, forgetting completely about whatever it was he’d originally planned to do. Stopping just short of the bathroom door, he hears coughing on the other side, setting off alarm bells in his head.

“Hey—Galo are you alright?”

There’s no verbal response, just shuffling and the flush of their toilet, muffled slightly by the door. Lio waits, unmoving from his spot outside. The handle twists and soon enough the light washes over him. Galo stands before him, sweaty, clumps of blue hair plastered to his forehead; his eyes are red and an unmistakable, putrid smell emanates from the small room.

_ Vomit. _

“L-Lio,” Galo’s hand moves to wipe at his mouth, “I’m uh—sorry if I woke you up.”

“Galo…” Lio peers up at the taller man, who is clearly not alright, “what happened?”

“It’s—it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Galo Thymos that’s bullshit, tell me what happened.”

“Really Lio it’s nothing,” he bites his lip, “just—just go back to bed.”

_ “No,”  _ it comes out more forceful than he had originally intended and Galo flinches. That alone is enough to make Lio’s heart hurt, “Please, Galo… what’s going on, I know there’s something—and I know you think you can hide it but I can tell…”

He reaches out, placing a hand on Galo’s shoulder, touch feather light. Galo says nothing, gaze unfocused, looking at anything other than the man standing in front of him.

“Let me help you.”

Galo is silent for just a moment before taking a small step forward and leaning down, wrapping his arms around Lio’s shoulders. He lets out a shaky sigh, head settling in the crook of his neck. Lio moves his arms to hold the other.

“‘S just nightmares,” he mumbles.

_ Okay. _

Nightmares. Lio’s dealt with his fair share of those before, at least.

“Do you wanna talk about them?” He asks, rubbing slow circles into Galo’s back.

“Can we go somewhere else?” He mutters, making no real effort to untangle himself from Lio. 

“Yeah—of course,” he pulls back a bit, absentmindedly brushing a few strands of hair from Galo’s face, “do you wanna go back to your room?”

He nods, weakly, exhaustion lacing his features. It’s a strange look on him, Lio thinks. Galo was normally so energetic, so full of joy, even when he was beaten and bloody during their fight with Kray he  _ still  _ maintained that shit-eating grin. Seeing him now, so small, life drained from his face, Lio felt something crumble inside himself. Galo doesn’t say anything as they return to his room, just keeps an arm slung over his shoulders, staying pressed into the side of the smaller man.

“Thank you,” he mutters as Lio guides him back onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He pulls his legs up to his chest and sighs, eyes falling shut, “can you come here?”

Lio doesn’t hesitate, after that, to climb onto the bed, settling next to Galo, pressed lightly against his side. Galo tilts his head to the left, resting it atop the other’s. The sit in silence, for a while; Lio was usually on the receiving end of comfort between the two of them (and he always felt bad about it, no matter how much Galo assured him shouldn’t) and that left him somewhat unsure of what to do and what to say in this moment.

“You threw up earlier, didn’t you?”

“Yeah…” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because of a nightmare?”

“I—I guess,” he sounds like he’s holding back, and Lio hates that he’s probably doing it because he doesn’t want to bother him—because it’s  _ Galo  _ and he’s always like that.

“That’s not all it is, is it?”

Galo doesn’t respond, slipping once again into silence. Had it not been for his erratic breathing and occasional twitch of his fingers, Lio could’ve sworn he’d fallen asleep.

“What was the nightmare about?”

He can feel Galo stir next to him, watches as a hand clenches the fabric of his sweatpants, “Just… old memories.”

His voice is shaky, wavering, and that in and of itself is enough to spur anger within Lio. Galo was always there to indulge Lio’s thoughts, to talk him through his panic, to listen when he just needed to talk. A wave of shame washes over him, at how selfish he’s been; somehow it never seemed to hit him that Galo could very well have a fucked up history as well. The sudden realization that Lio knows next to nothing about Galo’s past has his mind sent reeling.

“What were they of?” He swallows, “The memories?”

“They were…” he doesn’t finish the thought, trailing off.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to… it’s just—talking helps me, I thought it might help you too,” he really doesn’t have to say that last part, as it’s something Galo knows all too well. It wasn’t uncommon for them to have nights like this, but this time the roles are reversed; usually Lio’s the one on the verge of tears and Galo chasing away whatever shit his mind had conjured up to torture him that night. This is the first instance, in all of their time spent together, where Galo’s been on the receiving end.

Galo shifts, pulling his head away from Lio, opting to rest his chin on his knees, arms wrapped around his shins, “It was about Kray… from way back before I joined the Burning Rescue.”

Lio scoots closer, placing a hand on his bicep in a small attempt at comfort. Galo stares forward, eyes glassy and unfocused; he squeezes his arm, trying to ground him, if only slightly, “Galo, what did Kray do?”

_ What  _ hasn’t _ Kray done? _

“He—I was… young and,” he gulps audibly, “I was fucking stupid and I just…”

Lio’s eyes widen as the words leave Galo’s mouth because this isn’t the first time he’s heard a person say something like that and he  _ knows  _ what that means and  _ goddamn _ the anger that surges through him in that moment is so strong had he still been one with the Promare the entire room would be in flames, he’s sure of it. He opens his mouth to respond, to say anything, but Galo beats him to it.

“I  _ let him,  _ Lio I didn’t even  _ try _ to stop him I—”

“Galo that’s not you fau—”

“It  _ is _ ,” Galo casts his eyes to the side, refusing to so much as look in Lio’s direction. A choked noise leaves his throat and he puts a hand to his mouth in a feeble attempt to muffle the sound, “it wasn’t—it didn’t just happen once Lio it—it was like that for months and I didn’t do fucking anything—” 

His head is in his hands, grip tight on his hair. Lio can’t do anything besides watch as the man next to him starts to shake and tries his best to stop the sobs that inevitably begin to slip out. 

“Galo please—”

“It’s gross— _ I’m gross _ ,” he manages, voice low, shame apparent, “I—fuck… I think I even liked it then. Pathetic, huh?”

If everything else that he’d already said hadn’t been enough, this is what sent Lio over the edge. Galo was constantly taking the blame for things that weren’t his fault and  _ this,  _ this was unacceptable. He wraps his arms around the other’s midsection, a bit awkward in their current position, but that didn’t matter to him.

“Galo, you didn’t, don’t say that.”

“How do you know that, Lio, why—why did I let it happen if I didn’t?”

“You were just a kid, you—”

“I was  _ seventeen.” _

Lio’s hold just tightens.

_ Too young. _

“Seventeen is  _ still _ a kid _ ,  _ Galo,” Lio leans more of his weight against him, “Kray was a grown man, he exploited your trust and forced you to do that shit.”

“He… he didn’t force me to—”

_ “Did he give you a choice?” _

Galo pauses, a shaky sigh falling from his lips, “He—well, no but that—”

“Galo,” Lio cuts him off, releasing his embrace and straightening his posture, “look at me.”

Galo makes no effort to do so, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall next to him. Another sob slips out.

_ “Please.” _

After a moment, he finally complies. He turns, painfully slow, towards Lio, refusing to meet his eyes. Lio reaches a hand out, gently cupping Galo’s cheek. The latter bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. His cheeks are wet and more tears continue to spill.

“Galo if you had done that of your own free will and liked it, you wouldn’t be like this right now,” Lio swipes his thumb under Galo’s eye, wiping away another tear; his voice is soft, “how long have these nightmares been going on?”

Galo leans into his touch, finally managing to look at him directly, eyes red and puffy “Since the—since  _ our  _ fight with Kray… I’d uh, kind of been able to forget about it for a while, I guess…”

_ Almost three months. _

Almost three months since that fight. Almost three months since Lio moved into Galo’s apartment. For almost  _ three months _ this has been going on and Lio had no idea. He leans forward, resting his forehead against Galo’s.

“Galo… why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell  _ me?” _

_ Why didn’t I notice? _

“I—I didn’t want to bother any of you and… didn’t wanna seem weak,” he mumbles the last part of his sentence, but it doesn’t go by unheard.

“Galo do you think of me as weak, for needing your help?”

Galo pulls back, eyes widening, “What no—Lio that’s not what I—”

Lio presses a finger to his lips, effectively shutting him up, “Don’t misinterpret me—I’m not accusing you of anything,” he reaches his free hand up to wipe away a few more tears, “Galo, what I’m saying is if you don’t think _ I’m _ weak for wanting—no,  _ needing _ —your help, why would needing mine, or anyone else's, for that matter, make  _ you  _ weak?”

Galo stares at him, lost for words, mind clearly swirling with a grotesque mixture of emotions, “Lio, this… Lio what you went through was  _ so  _ much worse than—than anything that’s ever happened to me, you—”

“Galo just stop with that shit already—your pain and mine is not mutually exclusive, my experiences don’t negate yours—I don’t know how to break it to you but what he did was awful,” using both hands now, Lio holds Galo’s face, locking eyes with him, “You don’t always have to be the one helping people, you know that right?”

“I…” he trails off, failing to articulate what it is that’s running through his head; he looks at Lio like he’s seeing a different person, like he’s looking at him in a new light. Maybe Lio’s looking at him in such a way, as well.

“You can’t keep burning the candle from both ends,” Lio moves one hand down, interlacing his fingers with Galo’s, “no matter how much of a ‘burning firefighter soul’ you have, flames aren’t eternal—one of these days, you’ll get snuffed out.”

“C-come on,” he sniffs, squeezing Lio’s hand, “you know I’m not good with that metaphor crap…”

Lio smiles, a soft sort of thing, any usual annoyance he may have felt replaced with an overwhelming fondness, a feeling which he’s grown alarmingly familiar with in the past few months, “It means that, if you keep this up—if you only ever worry about other people, and never your own issues—it’s going to kill you,” He pauses, rubbing his thumb over Galo’s, “trust me, okay?”

That seems to be the final action, the last thing Galo needs to finally be pushed over the edge; he slumps forward, practically collapsing into Lio’s hold, face finding its place buried in the crook of his neck. 

“I—I trusted him, too, you know…?” Blue hair brushes Lio’s cheek and he brings a hand up to rest in it, “look where that got me.”

“Galo you—” he swallows, leaning further into the embrace, “you don’t think I would ever even dream of doing—of hurting you like that, do you?”

The response to that isn’t immediate, and that hesitation, that  _ doubt _ —well, it would be a lie to say that it didn’t hurt. The thought that, after everything was said and done, Galo might not trust him. Lio knows all too well that trauma, buried under years of repression, along with its lasting effects, doesn’t just go away like that, after a single conversation.

“I know it’s stupid…” he mutters into Lio’s shoulder, “but I don’t know—I  _ think  _ I believe that and I  _ think  _ I trust you and  _ fuck  _ want to so bad but it’s just like I—”

“—can’t trust yourself, either, right?”

Lio really hadn’t meant for that slip out, but he couldn’t bite his tongue in time, because he knew where Galo was coming from. The times he’s mulled over that line of thought, especially in the time he’s known Galo, are far too many to count.

“Yeah… I think that’s it, actually.”

“You…” Lio pauses, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to, and  _ what  _ exactly it even was, “you trusted me enough to fight Kray, and to douse the entire world in flames.”

“I did.”

“You trusted yourself then, too, Galo.”

He goes silent again, like he’s lost in thought; something Lio, a few months ago, honestly wouldn’t have thought the man was capable of. All he can really think about is how poor his judgement really had been, then.

“Y’know, when I got arrested, in that cell, a-all I could think about was  _ you,  _ Lio,” he sniffs, grip tightening on Lio’s shirt, “about how  _ right  _ you were, about everything and… about him.”

There’s a question that hangs heavy on Lio’s lips, one he knows he’ll have to ask. Despite hoping to god that he’ll like the answer, his gut feeling practically screams otherwise, “He didn’t do anything to you, during that time, right?”

The question is only met with more silence, which gives way to sour, anger that coils in the pit of his stomach.

“Galo, please—” his voice breaks, “ _ please _ tell me nothing happened.”

He feels Galo tense in the hold, and new tears start to soak through his shirt. Lio wants to say something, anything, but he’s acutely aware that there is nothing he can say to fix what was just made known between the two of them. Because now this isn’t only something that happened years ago. So he doesn’t say anything, he just sits there on the bed, and let's Galo cry on his shoulder, because right now that’s the only option he has.

It’s like that for a while; the two of them stay in the same position, Lio running a hand through the mess that’s become of Galo’s hair, the only noise to fill the silence of the bedroom being muffled sobs and labored breathing. The noise grows gradually softer as the minutes tick by, eventually reaching a stopping point as Galo’s reserve of pent up emotion is completely exhausted. With a shaky breath, he pulls away from Lio. Even in the dark, it’s obvious what kind of state he’s spent the night in.

“I’m sorry,” Galo sighs, clearly trying but not quite managing to hold eye contact, “you don’t have to stay…. fuck I shouldn’t have made you—”

“Galo,” the obvious shame that laces his voice makes Lio’s blood boil, “you didn’t  _ make  _ me do anything—I’m staying here for as long as you need me.”

_ Or for as long as you’ll let me. _

“You’d… really do that?”

“Yeah—you idiot…” Lio bites his lip, eyes fixed on the disaster of a man that sits present before him, “is there anything I can do, like right now?”

“‘M just tired,” Galo mumbles, looking like he’s quite literally seconds away from falling back onto the bed, “you’ll stay?”

He nods, mustering as much of a smile as he can. Galo drops with a soft thud to the mattress, grabbing Lio’s wrist and pulling him down as he does so. The closeness is something Lio never would have thought he’d be able to tolerate, let alone enjoy, but Galo and his touchy-feely nature seems to have changed that somewhere along the way. He shifts closer, resting his head against Galo’s chest.

“Thank you…” 

It’s just barely a whisper, but it warms something in Lio nonetheless. It’s nice, really; that’s all he can describe it as, and he finds himself hoping that they could do this again, one day, but not preceded by something like tonight. Maybe they’ll come to a point when there’s no more secrets between the two of them, and when they do,  _ maybe,  _ this could become their new normal. Lio doesn’t know why, exactly, he wants that—he just does, and frankly, he’s too tired to come up with an explanation.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone: using so many em-dashes and ellipses in dialogue makes it sound awkward.  
> Me, continuing to use as many as I want: it's supposed to sound awkward bitch.   
> This was just written to explore a concept I'd seen tossed around a few times on here it's still a little rough around the edges and if it feels at all disjointed in places it's because it was started almost 2 months ago. The title and description are a reference to a fredo disco song. Also I joined a promare discord recently, and I know some of you horny and/or sad bastards are on ao3, so s/o to any of you if you find this, my info's in my bio so feel free to @ me if you want.


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